


Sparks of Prometheus

by dea_ex_machina



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Dementia, Friendship, M/M, Mind Games, Romance, Science Fiction, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:16:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dea_ex_machina/pseuds/dea_ex_machina
Summary: After saving New York from Loki, none of the Avengers would've guessed that they'd soon need the help of said so called god of mischieve to save the world all over again. But this time all of the nine realms are at danger, shadows are hunting the earth and Loki , of course, demands a price... FrostIron





	1. Prologue: The regrets of an old man

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! So, this is my first attempt on writing Avengers fanfiction. Also my first try on writing Frostiron and doing so in English. It’s not my first language, so I hope that I’ll be forgiven eventual mistakes. As for the story: Enjoy! :) Feel free to leave any kind of thoughts or criticism.

**Sparks of Prometheus**

**Act 1 – The Pledge**

**Prologue: The regrets of an old man**

 

_“Every great magic trick consists of three parts or acts. The first part is called “The Pledge”: The magician shows you something ordinary, a deck of cards, a bird or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see if it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But of course is probably isn’t. The second act is called “The Turn”. The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you’re looking for the secret but you won’t find it. Because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet. Because making something disappear isn’t enough. You have to bring it back. That`s why every great magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part we call “The Prestige”. It is the part with the turns and twists, where there are lives on the line and you will see something shocking, something you’ve never seen before.” – Christopher Priest, “The Prestige”_

_  
_

_“There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” – Leonard Cohen, “Anthem”_

 

 ---

 

Every historian will confirm that there comes a day in the story of every great hero, when his time is officially over. No more heroic battles, no damsels in distress, no nemesis with an evil plan for world domination. God, not even a simple bank robbery to foil. Because, there is an enemy to mankind that even the greatest heroes cannot defeat: time.

What has once been young and full of strength grows aching and painful with age. And with age comes oblivion. Once you don’t appear to be rescuing the world every other Saturday of the month, people start to forget your name and face altogether. All the glamour, all the fame of being a superhero ceases to dust. All that is left are blunt medals, rusty helmets and useless gauntlets.

And memories.

Well, in case of Tony Stark – genius, billionaire, (former) playboy, philanthropist – the latter were recently giving him grief. He still was a genius and requests from students and scientists from all over the world studying his lifework were piling his desk on a daily basis, asking for insight on his theories and inventions on the generation of alternative energy and for permission for their further development. He was still a billionaire (which made his retirement pretty comfortable), and even if he wasn’t the womanizer he used to be anymore, he was still somewhat popular with the ladies. He supported charity organizations, sponsored an educational program for socially deprived and gave out scholarships to the worlds future geniuses who were in need of some financial help.

His days as an Avenger, as one of earths mightiest heroes, however, were done and over with and his suit and armor had been chucked in a long time ago. But he could still call himself one of the good – he still was a hero.

If only there weren’t these problems regarding his memory.

Every morning JARVIS woke him up in time for the nurses arrival at 7:30 a.m. Every morning he woke disorientated in his room at the most exclusive, most renowned residential care home for the elderly in New York City, and it took him ten minutes to recall how the hell he had gotten there. Beginnings of dementia, said the doctors. Unstoppable, no chance of attenuation. Someday he would not be able to remember anything anymore.

“Good morning, sir.” JARVIS voice broke through the mist of thoughts occupying his mind. Tony had spent the last few minutes considering the age marks on the backs of his hands.

“Good morning, JARVIS”, he murmured absentmindedly and blinked as his AI opened the shutters on the windows of his dorm room to leave in the morning light. JARVIS had been one of Tony’s conditions, before he had agreed to be moved into a retirement home. This was an abridged version of JARVIS, of course, and when he had been compressed Tony could have sworn he had heard his AI groan in frustration a few times. But nevertheless, this was the compromise he had gotten out of those responsible at S.H.I.E.L.D. and the management of the retirement home: Tony wouldn’t go anywhere without his AI. A lifetime of JARVIS watching his back and supporting his every move simply made Tony’s existence without him impossible. That had been something they hadn’t known how to argue with, so they gave in, but had him reduce JARVIS’s system to a local unit with access to the dorm rooms network _only._   

Tony had agreed, not telling them that he had already written a program for JARVIS to hack into the buildings network without being noticed by the systems firewall, to gain information on the other patients and the staff. 

“Sir, the nurse is on his way. Should I get the door for him?” 

Nurses. Another condition of his. Tony had fought for the right of picking the nurses himself. Naturally this led to an enormous wastage rate, because Tony liked to fire people in a burst of anger, who would bring him the wrong flavor of coffee, deny him alcohol (which the doctors had suggested), or, even worse, turn down his music. His body count was up to 35 nurses by now.

The newest was a teenager called Parker. Young, somewhat around 19, Tony suspected – but one of a kind, actually. He always showed the right amount of respect and assertiveness needed to keep the retired Iron Man in line. He didn’t bow to him, which somewhat impressed Tony. He sometimes caught himself developing fatherly feelings for the boy. He really liked him, although he would never admit it.

The list of visitors to patient Starks room was rather short. Rhodey dropped by as often as his tired bones let him out of the house. And Pepper showed up on a regular basis, the now grey hair still tucked up into an elegant knot, a hairdo that radiated authority and thoroughness, even after all these years in which she had ceased to look after the matters of business and privacy of one Anthony Stark.

Pepper. Why in the world had he let her go? Sure, things had gotten complicated between them after the battle of New York, but with a bit of work surely they could have… 

Who was he kidding? He was a loner, a hermit. Someone who was hard living with. There was a reason his closest friend was an AI-System based off the personality of his former butler. No one put up with him for long. Eventually Pepper had married Happy. Whatever she saw in the indulgent driver was beyond him, even though he owed Happy Hogan his life and hadn’t ever met anyone as sincere as him. Well, except from Captain Rogers maybe. 

“Sir?” 

Tony winced. He had drifted off again. That had happened a lot lately. “Yeah, JARVIS? What were we talking about, again?” 

“Should I open the door for Mr. Parker?” 

“Yeah. Let him in.” He rubbed his tired eyes and proceeded to look at the backs of his hands. Why hadn’t he noticed those age marks before?

With a slight “swoosh” the entrance door opened and a young boy in skinny jeans and red sneakers stepped into his patients’ room. “What’s up, Mr. S.? Had a good night?” 

“Hello, Peter”, replied Tony with a tired voice, examining the boy. “No jailers frock today?” 

Peter Parker, who had been tugging a box of donuts and two cups of coffee out of his backpack (donuts – god, tony loved that guy), froze and looked at him in confusion. Then his frown turned into a guilty smirk. “You’re talking about my clothes? Yeah, I ran late this morning and I hate taking the subway in my uniform. Sorry Mr. S.! I had hoped to get changed in your bathroom?” 

Tony snorted. “Don’t mind me. The less I see of this gross pink stuff, the better.” 

“Actually, it’s lilac, Mr. S.”, corrected Peter, still grinning. “I’d call it a deal, just don’t rat me out to Miss Palmer!”

Christine Palmer was the director of the retirement home and valued proper representation in every detail, especially concerning the wardrobe of her subordinates.

“Never”, said Tony and crossed the ARC-reactor on his chest. “I vow by all things I consider sacred!” 

“Which aren’t much”, Peter replied laughing, shoving his backpack into a dresser by the door. “Might as well kiss my ass goodbye then…”

Tony smirked. That boy really was one of a kind. 

“Did my old, weary eyes spot donuts there? I mean _real, greasy, unhealthy, **wonderful**_ donuts? Or was that just my dementia playing me?”

“No, those donuts are quite real, Mr. S.!” Peter folded down the little table attached to Tony’s bedside and served a box of four cream donuts, two with pink frosting, two with chocolate. Cardiac infraction at its most beautiful!

Even the coffee smelled wonderful. How long had Tony been going without a decent New York strong brew instead of the homes painted water they insisted on calling coffee? He took a sip and sight. Brilliant. How had he even managed to survive on this taste-mellowed gnat piss without caffeine? 

“You really have to have a word with your boss, Peter”, he pondered, holding the warm cup in his hand. “Tell her nothing is serving the health of our respected older citizens better than a good brew, straight from the shawarma palace!”

Peter cut down the donuts into smaller pieces so Tony would be able to chew them better. Even with food, age took a toll on you. 

“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure anyway?” asked Tony while shoving a piece of chocolate donut into his mouth. “Any special occasion?” 

The teenager regarded him with a raised brow, a soft smile on his lips. “Today’s your birthday, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony went silent. Then he said: “That’s impossible. JARVIS, what’s today’s date?” 

“Today is Wednesday, 29th May 2064. It is your 94th birthday. Congratulations, sir.” 

Tony blinked in confusion. “When did I turn 94?” 

“Approximately 7 hours and 46 minutes ago, sir.”

“Rhetorical question, JARVIS”, Tony groaned and rolled his eyes, while Peter snorted into his coffee. “And why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” 

“Pardon me, sir. I merely recalled your aversion to birthdays. Especially to the last twenty of them.” 

“Well, how are you supposed to celebrate birthdays when you’re 94? You’re old, unable to go to the loo on your own, not to mention no longer being able to do the things that make life worthwhile.” Tony pushed the box away. He had suddenly lost his appetite. 94 years – that couldn’t be right. He could have sworn he had only turned 43 a day or two ago… 

“Hang in there, Mr. Stark. You’ve managed to stay around quite a while longer than my uncle”, said Peter with a soft laugh. “He died being only 65, you know. And he still had a whole lot planned.”

Tony mentally kicked his ass for being that self absorbed. “I’m sorry, Peter. I’m a self-centered asshole.” 

Both of them fell silent for a while. 

“Don’t get all worked up about that”, Peter said eventually, being his easy-going, happy self again. “I bet you’ve seen more shit hitting the fan than the rest of us combined.” 

“Still no excuse for behaving like a dickhead”, muttered Tony and looked at his Hands. “But, you know… Sometimes I just ask myself what happened to all the time.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I woke up this morning, suddenly being 94. When I had only been 43 years old yesterday. And I haven’t got the slightest clue what happened within those past 51 years…” He clenched his fists. His strength had left him. Had he been shoving big metal blocks around his room in his forties, he now barely managed to hold up the cup of coffee Peter had gotten for him. Time was an asshole. 

Peter laughed. “Most people feel that way, Mr. S.! Remember you sometimes can’t even remember going to the loo.” 

“Is that a way of talking to your poor, senile patients, Mr. Parker?” Tony asked pretending to be scandalized, which owned him an amused grunt from Peter. 

“You’re neither poor _nor_ senile. But if you insist, then I guess that I’d better not be pouring this fine shot of brandy into that birthday coffee of yours”, he retorted, waving a small hipflask under Tonys nose.  

The old man beamed at him. “Have I ever told you, that I am madly in love with you, Peter Parker?” 

“No, you haven’t”, laughed Peter, crooking his brow while pouring a generous shot of brandy into the cup. “And you better don’t, or else I’ll get my ass kicked out for abusing my ward.” 

“So I’m at an age where they wouldn’t sue me for seducing minors, huh?” Tony took a sip from the cup, coughed and then smiled. “Good stuff!” 

“The best I could find”, Peter solemnly agreed while sliding the hipflask back into his sweater-west. “Happy Birthday, Mr. S.!” 

Tony toasted him and took another sip. Then his eyes drifted to the window. From his room he overlooked the 55th Street where it crossed 7th Avenue. New York City was already drowning in rush-hour traffic again. The city that never slept and that he had rescued more than once from complete and utter destruction in the past, went on to a new bright day of work and play, without him. He sighed. 

“Everything alright, Mr. S.?” Peter regarded him sternly. 

“Of course everything’s alright”, said Tony and tried for a cheerful tone. Then his eyes fell back to the backs of his hands. Big, light brown marks stretched all over the wrinkled skin. “I just have the feeling that…” He stopped and sighed again. 

“What do you feel, Mr. Stark?” asked Peter, putting a hand on his arm in a comforting manner. Tony frowned. It was something he had woken with. Something that _had woken_ him even before JARVIS had given his usual wake-up call. A feeling of discomfort. Something that just wasn’t right… 

“I have a feeling, that I’ve forgotten something important. Something that I mustn’t forget. I…” Frustrated he flung his hands to his face and pulled his hair. “Aargh! I don’t know. Those damn memories!” The heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, he let his bony old shoulders sink. 

“Stay calm, Mr. Stark!” said Peter, sounding nervous. He rose and walked to a monitor on the other side of Tony’s bed that constantly checked his vital signs. “You mustn’t get all worked up. Maybe you should pass on the rest of the coffee.”

Tony snorted. “You’ll have to pump it out of me then, sweetheart!” He quickly lifted the cup to his mouth and drank a few big gulps, nearly choking himself in the process. Peter jumped to his side and patted his back, while Tony coughed up the last gulp of coffee and brandy.

“Christ”, Peter grumbled. “I swear to god, you’re going to get us both killed!” 

“Would suit you, wouldn’t it?” Tony wheezed shaking his hand off. “I’m fine! Stop using my back for a drum or I might as well die from internal bleeding!” 

The patting stopped. “Sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah”, muttered Tony still hoarse from the coughing. “Where do you get this incredible strength from anyway? Steroids?” 

Peter snorted. “I didn’t even hit your back hard. You’re really sensitive today.” 

“Oi, don’t get cheeky! If I were fifty years younger, I’d fling your ass out of that window over there in no time!”

Peter chuckled.

“Oh, so you think that’s funny, huh? You’re laughing at the man who saved the world countless times by using his brain only?” His offendedness was fake, but his voice challenging. 

“You didn’t use just your brain”, replied Peter with a shrug. “You had your suits.” 

“And where do you think those suits came from, you greenhorn?” Tony asked cockily, tapping a finger to his temple. “You don’t grow them on trees, ya’ know? There’s a lot of mental work I put into them. I even constructed a suit that got me into an orbit around the earth.” 

Peter laughed out loud. “Now you’re trying to take the piss out of me!” 

“Not at all!” Tony insisted, suddenly remembering the story. “In 2013, after the battle of New York, I had begun to work on a suit that would function even under non-atmospherical conditions. I tried to divert myself from the misery with Pepper at that time and then I had this idea…” He stopped mid-sentence. There was more to that. Memories, lying in the shadows. The story of that suit had been a big one. _One of the biggest stories ever._

Peter pulled a chair to the side of his bed with its seat facing away from Tony. Then he sat down the wrong way round, each of his legs flung to either side of the chair, his crossed arms resting on the back. His eyes were alert, looking at him hungrily. “Tell it to me, Mr. S.!” While saying this, he was shoving a piece of donut into his mouth. “Let’s see, what you can still remember!” 

Tony looked at him for a long moment, not sure if he was really able to recall those things, or if his head was getting the better of him again. The pictures forming before his inner eye were all coated in grey mist and he couldn’t grasp them. They flew from his hands like someone was trying to keep them from his grip. Still he felt the outline of an old familiar story forming in his head. Faces and names that were familiar to him. Old friends. And old enemies. 

He thought hard about it. Searched for the right switch to let some light into the darkness. _Light!_ It had something to do with light. If only his damn memory would work properly! The only things he was able to grasp, were sparks of memories, shards of images he couldn’t quite stitch together.

Then, suddenly but with reluctance, the mist began to cease. The images fell into place like pieces to a puzzle and his view cleared up for what felt like the first time in forever. 

He smiled at the curiosity in Peters eyes. Yeah, he could tell the story. Even if he wasn’t quite sure if he got everything together right. But he could tell it. 

“Well”, he began, “I guess everything started with this damn nuke.”

 

 ---

…to be continued...


	2. Chapter 1: Project Icarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's chapter two! Since I'm currently really short on time (I got a new job and have to move my lazy ass to another city) I can't promise how fast the next chapter will come up (since moving really is a pain in the ass actually, and I don't know when I will have time to write or internet access again). But I will do my very best, I promise! 
> 
> Cheers and of course: Enjoy!

**Sparks of Prometheus**

**Act 1 – The Pledge**

**Chapter 1: Project Icarus**

 

_The Nine Realms. Earth. Stark Tower, New York City._

It all began with the goddamn nuke. During the battle of New York, Tony had barely managed to fly the nuclear bomb through the hole into the other dimension, before it would have flattened Manhattan and New Jersey. While he had managed to diminish the army of the Chitauri, his suit on the other hand had not survived the flight without proper damage. The system had completely broken down, because the suit wasn’t build to match the non-atmospherical conditions of the world beyond the portal. So he had fallen. At least three miles straight toward the ground, unconscious and no functional emergency-system at hand. Hadn’t it been for Hulk catching him midair, the mighty Iron Man surely would have been smashed into smithereens, leaving behind a remarkable crater.

Right on the same evening Tony had retreated to the scrap board, to brood over the problem. Had the difficulties in his relationship with Pepper started at that point?

Well, they had developed during the days that followed, growing steadily. She had worried about him, convinced that the sudden outburst of war had asked too much of him, that his soul had taken collateral damage. It wasn’t everyday you averted a nuclear disaster, not even if your name was Anthony Edward Stark and fighting evil bastards was how you spend the most of your free time.

But Tony had felt fine (as far as he could judge), he had been tired and his bones were sore, but apart from that, he felt perfectly normal. He had had a few nightmares, and maybe he had been obsessing over the new suit a bit too much – but it was nothing to be that concerned about, really. All he had wanted to do then was get back to work and rebuild the Stark Tower. And Peppers attempts to make him feel better and looking after him simply drove him crazy. So, of course, one thing led to another: They had fought, and in a moment of thoughtlessness Tony had said something stupid (stupid, stupid, stupid!) and Pepper had moved out. Temporarily at first, but as time passed and Tony – being the narcissistic egomaniac he was – couldn’t bring himself to make a proper apology, Pepper had packed her things and left for good.

She would forgive him eventually, he knew that. But they were never going to be the same as before. Tony hid his insecurities behind a mask of bright smiles, cynicism and inappropriate jokes. He faced the world confidently and patronizingly, always hoping they wouldn’t be able to tell what lay behind that mask of iron. Because if they did, Lord, what would they find…

So who could blame Pepper for choosing to leave the chaos that was Tony Stark, while all she sought for in life was stability and balance? Surely not the man who knew how much danger, pain and frustration he caused the brave little Miss Potts.

No. Tony had strengthened his shoulders, helped her stack the removal crates and silently agreed with her, that this would be the best for both of them. Or at least he tried to tell himself that, as well as he tried not to notice Peppers red eyes and the occasional soft sobbing. He no doubt was one of earth’s bravest men – but when it came to drying tears that he had caused, he felt absolutely helpless.

So he went off to what he was best at: working on a new suit design. It took him three weeks alone to calculate and adjust the new shell that would match the high changes in temperature and the new pressure ratios. In addition to that, he needed to build a gyro sensor to protect the pilot on the inside. Sure, there weren’t such things as up or down in space. But that didn’t mean the human stomach thought so, too.

The trickiest part was the speed-up. In order to get into an orbit around earth, the suit had to reach at least 4.9 miles per second, which was more than twentyfold the speed of sound. So apparently he had to work out how to take off like a rocket, but on a much smaller scale.

And this was the infamous crux of the matter: how could he speed up the suit to reach an orbit around earth and give it enough stabilization at the same time, so he wouldn’t be torn apart before he even reached the stratosphere? There would be some enormous forces affecting the suit and they wouldn’t be easily contained.

After a few long, vain evenings hovering over crumpled blueprints and empty glasses of whiskey, Tony tried for a design with modified ARC-reactors in the soles and palms of the suit, replacing the repulsors he had used before. That managed to speed it up nicely, but when the computer simulation showed him how it would lead to the pilot being pulled apart mid-air, he quickly scraped that idea.

The force placed in the limbs led to an instability that would kill him the moment he flexed the wrong muscle or turned the wrong joint. The thought of being quartered didn’t appeal Tony at all.

While he was waist high in scraps and calculations again, JARVIS tried to keep him alive as best as he could. He tried to bring him to eat and sleep regularly, as well as hit the shower every now and again. He usually succeeded by threatening to lock down the workshop if Tony didn’t consume something containing essential nutrients instead of alcohol.

He had the first break through in the fourth week after the battle against Lokis army: If he placed the drive reactors somewhere outside the suit, into a specially build unit, he’d avert being quartered. Another benefit would be that he could concentrate the suits energy on the gyro sensor and the oxygen regeneration.

Satisfied with the outcome, Tony went to bed and treated himself to a full eight hours of sleep for the first time in 26 days.

\---

_The Nine Realms. Asgard. Bifrost._

While New York was under reconstruction, Thor Odinson strove to reestablish order and structure within the Nine that his brother had brought chaos and destruction about, while Loki pondered in a cell under the palace, waiting for eternity to pass.

Thor was at odds with himself. His heart mourned the lost brother that had been gone since the Bifrost had been destroyed. And what he had regained in New York was far from the man he had been brought up with and that he had loved dearly. He knew part of Lokis treason had been his fault, and the fact that he would never be able to right what he had wronged, pained him even more.

But the other part of him knew what danger shimmered through the façade of the fallen, lost son of Odin. The part of his brother that had been willing to burn all of Midgard to the ground, in order to become king of the ashes. Jane Foster would have died. As would have so many more. And all because Loki didn’t understand the value of life. And because he hated his brother. Knowing this, despair grabbed Thors heart with cold, crushing hands. All hopes he had harbored, that somewhere within this monster there was still something left of the brother he once knew, shrunk with each passing day, and Thor had refused to visit him in the dungeon up until now. Loki had called for him, one or two weeks ago. The messenger had not said why, but Thor suspected it was just to spite him and plant yet another seed of guild and regret in his conscience.

So he stayed away from the dungeon and turned his gaze toward the unrest within the Nine Realms and the reconstruction of the Bifrost. But however hard he tried, he could never keep his mind from wandering the long paths of grievance for the lost brother, longing for Jane Foster and missing his friends at Midgard for long.

Now he was standing next to Heimdal and watched the everlasting light of the galaxies through the vast window of the Bifrost. “They are all well, my prince”, he heard Heimdal say to his right in a deep baritone. “Midgard is safe, as is the young woman your eyes seek so desperately.”

“Those are mirthful tidings, my friend”, responded Thor with a tired smile.

“Only you do not look it, my prince”, Heimdal calmly observed. “Grief and worry darken your mind.”

Thor said nothing. He didn’t know what to respond to that.

“Do not let your heart grow bitter, Odinson. Even the wisest cannot tell if all hope is in vain.”

Thor looked at him. “Do you really think so, Heimdal? Haven’t you witnessed enough war and destruction to know better?”

Heimdal smiled. “These eyes have seen millenniums full of war and peace; they have seen empires rise and fall. Yes, I have seen destruction; destruction and despair. But there was always reason for holding onto hope, taking courage and having faith. Do not hold onto those somber thoughts, my prince. You will succeed in finding the answer.”

“If you say so, good Heimdal”, Thor sight, still not completely convinced.

“Ah, my prince, of that I am very-”, but Heimdal stopped mid-sentence and crooked his head, listening. His star-gazing eyes widened imperceptibly and he frowned.

Thor felt his muscles tensing and the hair on his neck standing up. “What do your eyes see, Heimdal?”

“Shadows”, the warden responded quietly.

“Shadows?”

“The darkness moves”, Heimdal said, not answering to Thors question. “Something is coming for us.”

“What is it?”, asked Thor, now visibly alarmed. One hand gripped Mjolnir, the other Heimdals arm.

The warden shook his head softly. “Whatever it is, my gaze cannot penetrate through the shadow that surrounds it.”

Thor nodded. “Then I shall report to father. He will know what to do.”

Heimdal declined his head in approval. “He may not be the only one to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe there is something here, luring the shadows”, Heimdal objected. “Maybe your brother’s treason is spreading out more than we thought.”

“You think this is Lokis doing?” Thor asked stone faced.

Again, Heimdal declined his head. That was enough for an answer. Thor turned on his heels and stormed back over the bridge toward the palace.

\---

_The Nine Realms. Asgard. Hlidskialf, Palace of the Allfather, dungeon._

The sound of Thors heavy footsteps echoed loudly from the dungeon walls. It was quiet down there and cool, but Thors thoughts were loud and radiant within his head. He was impatient and felt vaguely uncomfortable at the thought of meeting his brother again. A long time he had avoided coming here.

“My dearest brother”, pondered Loki as he spotted Thor through the barrier of his prison cell. “To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your visit? Surely not to my humble request for your aidance?” The green eyes regarded him with a mischievous gleam, narrow lips formed into a sneer.

“Watch that silver tongue of yours, Loki”, grumbled Thor and stepped closer to the cell. He buried his gaze into that of his brother and the mocking smile vanished in an instant. “I do not have the time for those little games of yours.”

The look on Lokis face turned into a calm aloofness and he retreated a few steps. “Tell me then, Thor, son of Odin, what is it that takes up all of your precious time?” There was a sharp undertone to his otherwise brittle voice. He turned his eyes away from Thor and began pacing his cell lazily, like a panther in a cage. He looked just like the graceful prince he had been brought up to be.

But Thor wasn’t fooled that easily. He pushed his cloak to the side, gripping the handle of his hammer tightly. “Heimdal speaks of shadows that cast themselves over the realm. What do you know about them?”

Loki stopped. He didn’t look at his brother but appeared to be thinking. “Why is it you think I might have knowledge about that?” he finally asked, his voice as tranquil as ever.

“Heimdal believes they are coming for you”, Thor responded impatiently. Now this got to Loki. He threw his head around to face Thor with a threatening frown, his green eyes gleaming with anger. But the outburst vanished as quickly as it had come. Only a heartbeat later he was the picture of serenity again.

“Of course he would think that”, Loki purred, shrugging. “But he is wrong. I do not associate with shadows.”

“But you know what they are, do you not?”

Loki shrugged again. He had proceeded to pace his cell again. “I have heard stories. Rumors. Nothing the sages or the great library wouldn’t tell you.”

“TELL ME NOW!”, Thor bellowed now furious with rage and slammed his fist against the barrier around the cell. The magic withstood the blast, but tiny waves of golden light now flooded its surface.

Loki chuckled quietly. “Ah, Thor, you always were the easiest to manipulate.” He pushed his chin up and regarded him from above. “Well, my dear brother. If you have nothing else to say than making untenable reservations-” He froze.

“I swear by the Nine, Loki, if it weren’t for the barrier between us, I’d-”, Thor pressed through gritted teeth, but his brother raised a hand and cut him off mid-sentence. He frowned and appeared to be listening carefully.

“What?” Thor snapped. He didn’t hear a thing.

Lokis eyes dropped to Thor. “Don’t you think it is oddly quiet down here?”

Thor spun around. Why hadn’t he noticed this before? Each cell was filled with Asgardian enemies; he himself had put them in there. And yet the dungeon was almost deadly silent. Thors gaze brushed over the cells. Wherever he looked, his eyes always meet the same picture: all captives stood upright and absolutely motionless within the barriers surrounding them, their eyes fixed on him and Loki. Not one of them moved even an inch.

Confused, Thor moved closer to the nearest cell to his side. The prisoners’ eyes followed his every move. “What is this sorcery?” he murmured, bending forward to examine a bearded man with a loincloth. 

“I wouldn’t get so close, if I were you” Loki pointed out. Thor waved him off, but did retreat. 

“I will tell father about this” he said, eyes still fixed on the motionless prisoners. He turned towards the stairs. 

“You’re not going to leave me here with these… these things, are you?” Now Loki suddenly became animate. He took a few long steps toward the barrier and regarded his brother grimly. But Thor just scuffed and ascended the stairs. He had to report to Odin immediately. This smelled of mischief and doom. 

“THOR!” Loki bellowed, but his brother ignored him. He had more important things to worry about. He ordered the wardens at the stoop to prevent anyone from entering the dungeon and to watch any movements from below. Then he went searching for his father. 

He found him standing on the balcony that bordered the great hall, hands crossed behind his back, his gaze turned towards an invisible place in the distance, his expression rigid and hard to read.

“Father!” Thor stepped to his side. Odin nodded slowly. 

“Tell me, my son” he grumbled, his voice measured, “what has your brother told you about the shadows?” 

Thor looked at him, stunned. “So… you already know?” 

“Obviously” responded Odin. Now he was looking at his son. “Heimdal doesn’t know, what they are, does he?” 

“No” agreed Thor. “But father, something about this appears to be strange. Down in the dungeon-” But he was interrupted by a warden, who bolted through the great door onto the balcony. 

“Sire! There’s a revolt down in the dungeons!” 

Odin and Thor turned around to face him. “Send the guards down” Odin said, not appearing to be concerned at all. “They shall smother this nonsense.” 

“We already sent twenty men down there, Sire!” The guard looked shaken, not daring to avert his gaze. “But, Sire, Lady Frigga has descended to the dungeon as well.” 

“What?” Thor blurted out. Odins face darkened. 

“We tried to stop her, Sire. But something was not right. She shot down three guards before she-“

Father and son were on their way, storming toward the dungeon before the guard could finish his sentence. 

“You think this is Lokis doing?” Thor pressed through gritted teeth. 

“I don’t know” Odin responded, and it was the worry in his voice that made Thors blood freeze.

At the entrance they found the three guards that Friggas magic had stuck. There was screaming and the clatter of crossing blades coming from below. Thor and Odin exchanged a quick glance, then they walked down the stairs, Thor leading the way. 

The dungeon looked like a battlefield. Slain bodies of guards and prisoners lay all across the floor, but among the survivors, the latter still outnumbered the wardens. The living guards had retreated to the corner of an empty cell, surrounded by a group of enemies.

Thor wielded his hammer, sweeping away five of them with one blow. Another three prisoners jumped his back, threatening to throw him to the ground, but Odins spear Gungnir hit the ground with full force, bringing every enemy down at once. Silence fell, and there amidst the fallen stood Frigga, upright and radiant as ever. 

Thor pulled himself up and hurried toward his mother. But before he could reach her, Lokis voice came up from behind him. “Don’t, Thor. This is not your mother.” 

Thor froze. “What are you saying, Loki? I recognize my mother’s face, when I see it.” 

“He is right, Thor” Odin grumbled, holding up Gungnir defensively. “Take a closer look.”

Thor examined the woman before him. She looked the same as always. Her hair had gone messy during the fight, but the rest of her was just- Then Thor saw Friggas face and flinched. It looked twisted somehow, like someone had put a grotesque mask on her head. Her eyes were dark, and the corners of her mouth were turned down sharply. 

“What is this?” Thor asked, retreating a step. 

“Who opened the cells?” wondered Odin. Thor looked around. All cells had been opened and the barriers, which should’ve been surrounding them, were gone. Only Lokis prison appeared to be locked still. His brother leaned on the wall in the back, looking pale but alert. 

“What happened, Loki?” Thor asked when his brother ignored Odin. Loki gleamed at him, his head tilted to the side. His green eyes were full of – what was it? Agitation? Fright? 

“Mother appeared. That was when the warriors came back to life. She was the one who opened the cells.” 

Thors eyes darted back to Frigga and her strangely twisted face. “That cannot be true.” But his protest was faint and without any conviction. 

“Did she say something?”, asked Odin. Lokis expression went dark. He pushed himself away from the wall and took a measured step towards the barrier.

“Did she say something?”, he repeated jeeringly. “No, she didn’t say anything. She simply played havoc, that’s what she did.” And after hesitating shortly, he added: “A shadow lies upon her.” 

Thor threw his head around. A shadow? Maybe Heimdal had been wrong then and they hadn’t been out for his brother in the first place, but- 

“Enough.” 

The three men flinched and turned to look at the woman who had just spoken. Friggas voice sounded as twisted as her face. It almost seemed like something had stolen her skin and tried to dress with it, but had only half succeeded in the process. But the darkened eyes were vibrant with some kind of strange energy, while she regarded each of the three with stern intensity. Finally, her eyes settled on Loki.

“Isn’t chaos your craftsmanship, my dear son? Why then are you looking so aghast?” Her voice was soft but horribly wrong, sounding like fingernails scratching on a chalkboard. 

Loki frowned but withstood her gaze. “You” he said, quiet scorn in his tone, “are not my mother.” 

The twisted mouth turned into a sneer. She opened her arms and snapped her fingers, at which the imprisoned warriors rose to their feet. Thor picked up Mjolnir and retreated to Odins side. From the corner of his eyes he could see that Loki was hitting the barrier with his fist.

“You cannot fight them alone” he said, his gaze burning into the side of Odins face. “Set me free.” 

“No” was all Odin said, before he spoke to the thing that was wearing the face of his wife. “Who are you? Why have you come here?” 

This time, the thing laughed. “I have always been here, Odin Borson. I am everything and everyone, since I am everywhere. And today, I have come to destroy Asgard.” At that moment, a loud clash came from the palace above. There was the sound of distant screaming. 

“The palace is under attack?” Thor averted his eyes to the ceiling nervously. 

“This is not possible”, Odin grumbled, his gaze still fixed on his wife. 

“As you can see, it is”, Frigga hissed and stepped back. Before her formed a barricade of bewitched prisoners.

Meanwhile Loki tried to catch his brothers’ gaze. “Don’t be stupid, Thor. There are too many of them and with mother under its control, this thing is far too powerful. You need me. Set me free.” 

Thor snorted. “You want to help? Once I set you free you’re going to slip off.” 

Loki hit the barrier again, now obviously frustrated. “Idiot! Don’t you see it?” 

“What should I see?”, asked Thor while he tried to measure the enemies’ next step. 

“Mother is still in there!” 

This made the hair on Thors neck stand up. He turned to his brother. “What are you saying?” 

Loki rolled his eyes. “Whatever this thing is, it has captured mother and is now controlling the others. If you want to take them out, you have to defeat mother first. But mother’s soul is still in there and you cannot kill her.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Just look at her!” 

But before Thor could respond to that, the warriors’ rigidity melted away and they stormed towards him and Odin. Father and son made every endeavor keeping up their defenses, but the sheer majority of opponents would soon defatigate them. 

“THOR!”, bellowed Loki. The son of Odin gritted his teeth. Then he cast off four enemies with one vast swing of Mjolnir and hurried towards his brothers’ cell. The situation seemed hopeless, with or without Loki, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“Step back”, he ordered, heaving the hammer over his head. Loki retreated a few steps, just in time as Mjolnir hit the barrier around his cell with a full blast. It quivered for a second, before it burst into tiny sparks of golden light and vanished. As did Loki, almost immediately. Thor blinked into an empty cell. Then he felt his stomach drop. He had fallen for one of Lokis tricks again. 

But as he turned toward the fighting, he spotted a flash of green next to his mother that soon turned into the form of his brother. Lokis appearance seemed to surprise Frigga, since she had no time to command some of her mind slaves to come to her aid while Loki pressed his palms to her temple. Green magic surrounded his hands and Friggas head. Eventually her eyes rolled back and she sank to the ground. Loki caught her. 

At the same time, the warriors collapsed and Odin, having taken on eight of them at once, fell to one knee. Thor sprinted to his fathers’ side, helping him up. “It is over”, he said, setting Mjolnir down to grab his father with both hands.

But Odin shook off his hands and stumbled towards his wife. “No”, he groaned. “It is not over.” 

Holding his mother in his arms Loki, too, regarded the ceiling sternly. “The fighting within the palace proceeds. The shadow may have left mother, but it seems to have found a new host.”

Odin knelt down besides them and studied the unconscious Frigga. “She appears to be unharmed”, said Loki, placing her in the arms of her husband carefully. 

“Her body is”, Odin agreed with a bitter laugh. “But I can see the wounds on her soul.” At this, Lokis expression grew dark, but he remained silent. Then he turned toward his brother, who was standing next to Odin, eyes gazing at Frigga worryingly.

“So, apparently we are going to have to fight our way out of here.” He rose to his feet and took a sword from the limp hand of a guard. As if this being the cue, the door to the dungeon suddenly opened and about two dozen men came running down the stairs. All of them were Aesir, but Thor had the feeling that none of them had come to their aid. 

“There are too many of them”, Odin grumbled behind them. 

“Then we just have to hit harder”, answered Thor with an angry laughter sticking out his hand. Mjolnir flew to his palm unerringly while Loki braced himself for the battle, balancing the sword in his hand. 

“No”, said Odin, grabbing both of them by their shoulders. “Asgard may fall tonight, but I won’t allow it to vanish without the least bit of hope.” 

Thor felt the magic streaming into his body. He turned alarmed. “Father, what-” But the magic was already carrying him away before he could finish his sentence. 

\---

  _The Nine Realms. Earth. A field on the outskirts of New Jersey._

 “All systems stable, sir.” 

“Good. How many seconds before takeoff, JARVIS?” 

“25, sir. I wish you the best of luck.” 

“Thanks, JARVIS. But hopefully we won’t need that. Is the emergency system up?” 

“Everything ready, sir. And ten, nine, eight…” 

Tony’s heart was racing in his chest. He stood completely still amidst a cornfield, about nine miles from New York. Well, he wasn’t exactly standing. In reality he was stuck helplessly inside a drive reactor that was patched bulkily around his modified suit. The thing weighed about twice as much as his normal suits, making it stolid and hard to move in. This was a problem he would have to focus on, but Tony was convinced that the lack of gravity in space would do its part in the matter.

While the ARC-turbine on the suits back activated, Tony began to fidget. He had already run three test flights using drones and all of them had caused some minor malfunctions. But he had corrected those and now he wanted to see himself what he had created. Still his stomach announced its doubts through a nervous twitch. Oh well… 

“Three. Two. One. Ready for takeoff!” JARVIS computer generated voice roared in his ears as the auto-pilot released the reactors full energy and the suit and Tony took off into the evening sky. The maiden flight with his very first suit was nothing compared to this. Despite the gyro sensor he felt the Mach affecting the suits structure. Everything around him rattled and he barely managed to read the data on his visor. 

“Holy shit, this is crazy!” His voice sounded like it was shaking with the engine. “All that’s missing is the right beat. JARVIS? Put on some AC/DC!”

A second later the guitar riff of “Fly on the wall” flooded the inside of the helmet. 

“Oh yeah, baby!”, laughed Tony. “This is the life!” 

He checked the altitude indicator. It had been eight seconds since takeoff and he had already hit 39.2 miles. This meant that he had left the stratosphere and would encounter the mesosphere in a few seconds. The outer visors showed only night sky above him.

 

_“You can dance, through the night_

_Rock ‘n’ roll music itching to fight_

_Making love, drunk or stoned_

_Looking for dollar, get broken boned”_

 

The altitude indicator climbed to 55.9 miles. Thermosphere. He had made it. But Tony didn’t cheer yet. “JARVIS, what about the systems?” 

“You are now at an altitude of 68.35 miles, sir. The auto-pilot is going to shut the turbine down in approximately 24 miles. Project Icarus is a success. Congratulations, sir.” 

“Thanks buddy”, Tony responded. He registered the auto-pilots command to cut off the turbines energy. The rattling had already subsided a few miles ago, but now it stopped completely. The gyro sensor made sure he couldn’t feel the zero gravity but he recognized that the suit was easier to move up here.

 

_“I was trapped, like a fly on the wall_

_I was caged like a zoo animal_

_No escape, from the fate that you make_

_You’re a snake, I’ve had all I can take_

_Watch out, there’s a fly on the wall”_

 

Tony wasn’t able to bite back a triumphant grin. The system was working. He was going to revolutionize space travel. After he got back down he was going to call Rhodey and rub his nose in it. 

“So much for Icarus and the sun”, he murmured and tried the repulsors ability to maneuver in zero gravity. They worked impeccably. He made a few small circles, flew a looping and examined the world from above. It was truly an amazing sight. Breathtaking. He could make out the lights of New York through spaces in the clouds. Then a small asteroid shot trough the atmosphere beneath his feet and eventually burned up in the mesosphere. A shooting star! 

“Make a wish Tony”, he murmured to himself, turning the music down with a movement of his eye. Then he went into descent mode. This had been enough fuss for one test run. “Back down to good old mother earth.” 

The descent was going to take longer than the way up. Tony wasn’t in a rush to get down to the ground anyway. He adjusted the repulsors so they would move him gently towards earth’s gravity again, and gave a little force. Gravity would do most of the work, and he only had to support the suit so he wouldn’t be sinking to fast. Otherwise he would end up just like the shooting star from before, burning up within the mesosphere. 

“Do we have the data, JARVIS?” 

“The protocols are complete, sir. I am currently evaluating them.” 

“Wonderful!” 

“Sir, my systems register that you’ve got mail.” 

Tony frowned. “I’m, like, getting mail 24/7, JARVIS. How’s that relevant to the current plotline? You trying to do small talk?” 

“No, sir. But the contents are marked top priority, sir.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Sure. I too think every mail I send is the top priority of someone others day. No need to panic.” 

“But, sir-” 

“Damn it, JARVIS! I’m kinda busy at the moment. Just remind me of it later and read it to me tomorrow. Right now, I’m trying not to die!”

Right then, the systems crashed. 

Tony had no time to react. Now, with gravity having him back for good, he dropped towards earth with incredible speed. He twirled around uncontrolledly a few times and spun over. Every sense of orientation had gone lost on him and the only thing he could feel pulsing through his body was: panic.

He tried desperately to stabilize his position in order to be able to reset the systems. If he failed there was no chance in heaven _or_ hell that he would survive the fall. He was still far from the ground – it had to be at least 40 miles. He flexed his muscles and tried to pull his arms and legs in. But in vain. He was being tossed from side to side, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, his breathing flat and clipped. Then he felt his field of vision diminishing. 

“But, I don’t want to die!”, was his last desperate thought before he lost consciousness.

 

\---

 

When Tony woke again, the signal for the emergency system blinked on the left side of his visor. He had stopped falling and, according to the sharp pain in his neck, he was still alive. 

“JARVIS”, he wheezed. 

“ The emergency system activated 30 miles ago, sir. You are now at an altitude of 14,29 miles and are descending constantly at about 1,8 miles per minute. How are you feeling?” 

“Chewed on and then spit out”, Tony responded weakly. He was still feeling sick. “Damage report?” 

“The readings are not done yet, sir. The thermal shield was damaged and the gyro sensor is only working with half of its power. You may have suffered a slight concussion and a blood vessel in your right eye has erupted. Pulse rate and cardiac frequency are slightly increased, but tolerable, breathing is normal. You are really-” 

“Don’t say it”, Tony stopped him mid-sentence, groaning. “Don’t tell me I’m lucky.” He felt tired and some of his ribs were giving him hell. “At least we know now, that the emergency system is working”, he mumbled.

“Indeed”, JARVIS agreed. “Also, there’s a call from Miss Potts.” 

Tony groaned. “Please tell me, you didn’t call her!” 

“It is part of my orders, sir. Your emergency system includes messaging your CEO, which happens to be Miss Potts at the given time, should your life be in danger.” 

Tony sighed. “Patch her trough.” He braced himself for the storm that was no doubt going to come about. He was not disappointed.  

“Anthony Edward Stark!”, Peppers voice roared through the speakers. “What in the name of the devil were you thinking?”

Tony flinched. She never called him by his full name. “Hi Pepper. How was your day?” 

“Don’t try to change the subject!” her voice sounded strict, and if possible her volume had increased even more. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I’m flying a spacesuit back to earth.” Sometimes it was best sticking to the question. For a brief moment, there was silence. Then Pepper spoke again, only this time she did not yell but speak in a dangerously calm tone that was sending shivers down Tony’s spine. Suddenly he wished she would be shouting at him again. 

“While pursuing this absolutely stupid idea, did it ever cross your mind what was going to happen, if you had miscalculated even some tiny little detail?” 

He swallowed hard. “Of course. That’s why I had three unmanned test flights. And as you can see, I didn’t miscalculate. Mostly, that is.” 

He could hear her unsteady breathing through the line. Then she suddenly said: “Tony – is this because of- … Were you trying to kill yourself?” Her voice sounded soft, but the concern that came with those words weighed heavily. Tony’s stomach flinched. Pepper thought that she… 

“No, Pepp. Seriously. You know my ego’s simply too big for that.” But his nonchalance and the grin seemed to deepen her concern even more. 

“This isn’t funny, Tony. I’m really worried about-“ 

“I know, I know, Pepp!”, interrupted Tony. Lord, how he hated this side of the coin. “We’ve been through all of this already. I’m fine. I bustled, that’s all.” 

“Bustled”, laughed Pepper without any hint of humor. “You nearly died!” 

“Well, I think the most important word there is _nearly_. So as you can see, there’s no need to worry.”

The icon for incoming messages popped up. Word from S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Hey Pepp, hold on a second, will you?” Before she could protest he muted her channel and opened the mail. It was from Fury. And it didn’t bode well.

“Sorry, Pepper”, he said apologetically. I’m afraid we have to postpone this little chat. He hung up. 

“JARVIS, get Mark VII ready. I need to change immediately once I get home.” 

“As you wish, sir.” 

Commander Fury’s message consisted of exactly 16 words.

 

_Trouble in Norway. How quick can you get there? The others are on their way. AA._

 

AA. Avengers assemble. 

Well. That sounded great.

 

\---

 

… to be continued …


End file.
